Chapter 6
6
JONAH
I’m pacing the floor of my office the next morning when Dee’s car pulls into the car park with ten minutes to spare before her contracted start time.
I watch her hurry towards the hotel, her bobbed hair blowing in the gentle breeze.
At least she’s not wearing that bloody wig again today.
But I still have a few choice words for her after the phone call I’ve just had to field.
As soon as she walks in through the door, the smile drops from her face when she sees me there waiting for her with my arms folded again. I beckon for her to follow me into my office and wait till she’s sat down in the chair opposite me before launching into my rant.
‘I’ve just had a really pissy call from a prospective customer who queried us about hiring the hotel for their wedding venue this summer over two weeks ago. Why the hell haven’t you replied yet? We can’t leave emails unanswered for that long. It makes us look like chumps who don’t know what the hell they’re doing!’
Her face seems to pale. ‘I’m sorry, it must have got knocked off my email list by mistake.’
‘That’s not good enough! It’s not like we’re fully booked or anything. We need to get that kind of business in.’
She nods slowly, her eyes wide and worried.
I fight back a sting of discomfort at the thought that I’m being unnecessarily aggressive. But it’s been one thing after another going wrong and my patience is wearing very thin now.
‘You’re absolutely right. I’ll get onto them right away and offer my sincere apologies.’
I let out an exasperated sigh and stare up at the ceiling, trying to get my annoyance under control. I’m seriously on the cusp of firing her on the spot, but then what will I do? I really don’t want to have to go through the time-consuming process of hiring for her role again.
‘Don’t worry, I’ll fix it. And it won’t happen again,’ she says confidently now, looking me dead in the eye when our gazes lock again.
Can I let myself believe she really means that? It certainly seems like she does from the serious expression on her face.
Not that I have a lot of choice right now.
‘Fine. Make sure you do.’
She nods and goes to stand up.
‘And Dee?’
‘Yes?’
‘No more mistakes.’
She just nods again before turning and walking away.
A couple of hours later, I’m making myself a coffee in the kitchen when Dee strides over to me with a purposeful expression on her face.
‘Okay, I called the prospective customer and apologised and gave them a couple of ideas about how we could best use the grounds and facilities here to stage their wedding. Apparently, the female partner is a big Agatha Christie fan, so I said we could orchestrate a 1920s-style reception with croquet and cocktails on the lawn and a pianist playing Cole Porter songs while they take photos by the gazebo, or maybe in front of the lake.’
A shiver of horror runs through me when I think of that place and the humiliation it’s brought me.
She seems to notice my reticence because a flash of worry crosses her face. ‘But if you don’t think that’s a good idea?—’
I hold up a hand. ‘No, no. It’s a great idea.’
Confusion clouds her eyes, but I’m not about to go into my feelings about the lake with her right now. It’s not like I’ll need to go down there myself. She can take care of all of that.
‘Oh! Okay, well, great,’ she says, looking a little surprised at my inconsistency, but quickly putting on a professional face. ‘Well, they seemed very keen and asked me to send over a quote so I’ll go and get on with it then.’
‘Good You do that,’ I say, noting a flicker of disappointment on her face that I hadn’t been more effusive with my praise. But it’s not a done deal yet. If she brings this business in, then I’ll make sure she knows how pleased I am with her performance.
For the next couple of days, Dee makes an effort to not only to be on time each morning, but early. So early, in fact, I miss her coming into the building and have to search her out in the hotel or the grounds where she always seems to be on the phone to the festival organiser, Jay.
There are a tense couple of hours where we’re not sure we have all the right licences to hold a festival at the hotel, but Dee takes charge of this, calling a friend of hers from uni who’s now a qualified solicitor.
‘I pulled in a bit of a favour and she’s looked over all the documentation. It seems we’re fine and don’t need to apply for a temporary event notice in this instance, which is helpful because we’d be out of time to do it at this late notice,’ she tells me with a huge grin.
Her relief is palpable and I almost smile back at her.
But I can’t quite bring myself to trust she has everything in hand yet, so I just nod.
She seems a little disappointed at my lukewarm response, but I remind myself I’m her boss, not her friend.
I have to admit though, I’m a bit taken aback by how much more organised she appears to be now as she gets the place ready for this event. For the first time since she started, she actually seems excited about the job she’s doing and it’s given her a spring in her step.
Not that she was exactly morose before.
But it’s odd though.
The more I watch her work – whilst trying not to be too blatant about checking up on what she’s doing – the more I feel like I’ve actually got her completely wrong up till now.
Which is weird.
There’s definitely something different about her, but I can’t put my finger on exactly what it is. Physically, she looks the same, I think. Unless it’s something to do with her hair? She seems to touch it all the time now. Perhaps she’s paranoid it still looks bad after her disastrous haircut the other day. But I don’t think that’s it. At least, it looks okay to me.
No. It’s a feeling I get from her. A vibe that wasn’t there before.
Perhaps it’s because I’ve finally seen her take some initiative and show me she really can be as good at her job as she initially promised.
What do they call that?
Competency porn.
I’ve always found skills more attractive than looks.
Yeah, that must be it.
Because she’s definitely proved herself to be up to the job in the last day or two.
Perhaps it was my threats of not passing her probation that did it.
Well, whatever it was, I’m glad she’s getting stuck in now.
The plans for the festival actually sound great. She’s marked out a couple of the surrounding fields for the camping area and allocated the gardens nearest the house for where marquee tents are being erected to hold a variety of pretty out-there-sounding workshops.
They’re having wood-fired hot tubs too, which have already arrived and are currently being set up round the side of the house where we get the most light.
The crew and organisers will be staying in the hotels’ rooms and they’ll be using the ballroom-cum-conference room for a mixture of yoga studio space and a dancefloor in the evenings. They’ve even got their own caterers, who will be taking over the kitchens, to provide a totally vegan menu for the duration of the festival, and they’ll be using the dining room to seat people for meals. It’ll be a bit of a squash, but she reassures me that no-one will mind this. Apparently, it’s a very laid-back, friendly event.
The library will be doubling as an informal chill-out room where people can sit and read, or chat, as well as a space for musicians to perform. They’re also planning on hosting a cabaret in there on the Friday night. Evidently, festival-goers volunteer acts to perform at it. It sounds like most people aren’t professional artists or musicians, but it’s open for anyone to showcase their skills or party tricks.
So that should be interesting.
Saturday night is party night with a dress-up theme and they’ll have a series of DJs in the ballroom.
I have to admit, I’m actually intrigued to see how this goes. It’s been a long time since this house has seen a proper party and it’s making me feel nostalgic for my hedonistic uni holidays when my mates and I would take the place over for a week at a time.
It’ll be great to see the place really come alive again.
Not that I’ll be getting involved with the festival. I’m going to continue to keep a low profile, as I have done since moving here and opening the hotel. I wanted my fresh start to be about the house and the quality of the experience, rather than about me. Or my old man.
This really frustrated Tessa, who was all for using my fame to get punters in. But the last thing I wanted at that point was people coming to stare at me and ask awkward questions.
I’m so done with the whole fame thing.
So I definitely don’t want people recognising me and another bloody meme making its way onto the internet.
Just as I’m trying to push the horror of this thought to the back of my brain, Dee comes striding into the hotel reception, where I’ve been checking on upcoming room bookings for the next couple of months – which are looking a little anaemic – and comes to a halt in front of me. Her cheeks are flushed and her eyes alive with what looks like excitement.
Wow. She really is a very attractive woman.
Another thought I have to push away.
Her sweet scent hits my nose and I breathe it into my lungs, feeling my body respond in a way that it hasn’t before.
‘Are you wearing a new perfume?’
She looks startled by my barked question.
‘Er… um… yes! I bought it the other day. Don’t you like it?’
‘No, no, it’s fine.’
It’s more than fine. It’s actually making me hard. I shift on the spot and link my fingers in front of me so my hands are shielding my groin.
‘Okay, good. Mr Jacobson—’ she begins.
‘If you’re not using “boss” any more, call me Jonah, will you. I can’t be doing with all this Mr bullshit.’
She blinks at me, a little surprised by my cross interjection, then nods.
‘Okay. Jonah. I need to allocate a room for the wellbeing volunteers to work from. Can I use the one next to your office? It would be the best place for it, I think, since it’s out of the way and therefore quieter.’
‘Sorry, the what?’
‘Wellbeing team. They have people on hand who work as friendly contacts for the festival-goers. In case someone’s having a tough time and needs someone to talk to. It’s a really important part of the festival. It means everyone feels safe and heard if they have any issues with other attendees, or if they’re struggling with their mental health, for whatever reason. There’s a strong emphasis on consent at the festival – they even have dedicated workshops about it, which everyone’s encouraged to attend – to really hammer home the civic-welfare ethos.’
I stare at her for a moment, processing all this. It actually sounds like a brilliant idea.
‘And are these wellbeing people trained?’
‘Yes. They’re all professional therapists. They get free entry to the festival so they can enjoy the rest of it as a punter when they’re not doing their shift. It’s a system that works really well apparently.’
‘Right. Okay. Well then yes, of course. They’re welcome to use the room next to mine.’
‘Thanks,’ she says, giving me a broad smile. ‘I’ll get the staff to make it useable for that purpose. Maybe put some more comfortable chairs in there, if that’s okay?’
‘Sure.’ I’m very much liking this new version of Dee. I hope she stays after the festival is over.
‘Oh, and Jay, the guy organising the festival, says he’s a fan of your music and he asked me to tell you that you’d be more than welcome to perform at the cabaret if you’d like to. There’s no pressure, but it’s an open, inclusive event, so everyone’s welcome. The whole idea of the festival is that it’s community led, so you’re encouraged to participate in your own individual way.’
I hold up a hand, alarm making my shoulders twang with tension. ‘Whoa there. I’m not intending to get involved with the event, just be discreetly on hand to protect the interest of the property and the business.’
I think I see a flash of disappointment in her eyes. ‘Okay, no problem,’ she says, with what sounds like forced conviction.
‘I don’t perform to the public any more,’ I tell her, feeling a bit churlish now about refusing to play. But I made the decision for a good reason and I’m intending to stick to it.
‘That’s a shame, but I totally understand,’ she says with a kindly smile.
I open my mouth to defend myself, then close it again. I don’t owe anyone an explanation about why I decided to stop being a musician.
‘Anything else?’ I ask instead.
She blinks at my abruptness. ‘No. That’s everything. Thanks.’
Once again, I feel like a dick for being so short with her. But it seems it’s best to be completely straightforward with Dee, so there’s no room for misinterpretation.
Like that misunderstanding about the kiss she thought I might be interested in the other day. Admittedly, I’d been in an anarchic mood after seeing something online about Tessa and her new partner and so had been more receptive to Dee’s flirting than usual. Perhaps I’d even flirted back a bit. It had felt good to feel wanted. But as soon as she made her move, I knew it was a bad idea.
It was the right decision to reject her advances. I’m sure of that now.
Pretty sure.